Stand and Deliver: Tom Perriello comes to Martinsville... Again!

Pictures show Mr. Perriello's aides, Nicholas and Ebony

As promised, our 5th District Representative in Congress, Rep. Tom Perriello, was in Martinsville early Monday morning to meet with my business partner, Doris Berry, and me, along with many others to discuss whatever concerns we may have about anything.

Even though the announcement was buried on page 5(C) of the local newspaper we already knew that he was coming so we were there. When we arrived at 8 am, he was already there , early in fact (!) and met all of us in 10 minute increments so that we could discuss what was on our minds.

Currently we are trying to juggle selling real estate with trying to save people's homes and we hope to be able to contribute what we can in both those efforts. So far we have met with considerable resistance from lenders we have spoken with on behalf of beleaguered homeowners. The technique seems to be a rope-a-dope routine: put us on hold, make us talk with this person and then that one, promise to call us back (then they don't), and ultimately their remedy is to give the homeowner paperwork that would make the most pedantic of us shrink into a fetal position were we not just damned determined to follow the Rube Goldbergesque gauntlet of forms to the end and to get answers.

We will persevere. Our citizens are a tough group of people. Some of them may be barely literate but they are survivors and they are not stupid. While others enjoyed the fake economy of the past few years citizens here soldiered on, pretty much forgotten except for the occasional embarrasing headlines concerning, among other things: the highest unemployment in Virginia (currently 18.5%; the Henry County Sheriff and several deputies disgraced and imprisoned for various crimes; the MZM mess that tainted Virgil Goode; the Henry County Administrator embezzling over $800,000 from the taxpayers... I could go on, but I expect most readers already know all of these debacles.

People here don't even seem to react anymore to bad news and it was no shock or at least shouldn't have been to people outside our area that the economy unraveled with such rapidity. We have been there. We were the first to experience the amazing joy of free trade - our industries, primarily textiles and later furniture, were bought out in many cases, downsized and then shut down while greedy free traders without any social conscience freely chased cheap labor all over the globe, leaving in their wake workers who had no work and no prospects for finding any.

Previously the paternalistic, generational promise for nearly a hundred years had been that education was not all that important when you could get a job, buy a Trans Am, buy a single-wide, get drunk and perhaps beat up various family members, maybe do drugs, get absolution on Sunday, rinse and repeat. Once that lifestyle was gone we were given various forms of hope, but hope tastes bitter when you live on it for over twenty years without respite, as many have found when we were forgotten except during election time.

Elections are over now, except in Minnesota, so the task of repairing our economy has begun, but this time is different because we here are not alone-it now involves the entire world. Ebony and Nicholas, pictured above, were two of the people we met yesterday-gracious, kind, and caring. They took their notes on Blackberries and notepads and remained respectful and kept time so that all could be heard.

Meeting Mr. Perriello was like having someone take a psychic reading - I nearly felt he peeked into my soul and I didn't feel like I was speaking with a politician and nor did he seem anything other than completely engaged in his constituents' stories. Either he is the best politician I have ever met or he is the genuine article. His background of service more than suggests the latter and I expect he will deliver on his promise to help.

It will take all of us, however, to help him to help us. No one can do all of this alone and we are going to figure this puzzle out one person, one family at a time. And we will keep on doing this. It is what we do.

Let's get cracking... together... again.

 

Cat Hair

Aleister. The source of joy and pain. And cat hair. Piles of it...tumbleweeds of gray kitty hair here, there and everywhere. It may not be such a good thing to live alone with three cats as they do not give a fluff whether or not their hair is all over the place. We are, of course, only here to serve their needs and I willingly signed on for the job. I did not imagine, since I already had two kitties, Blanche and Miss Kitty, and they only produced small quantities of ladylike hair, that Aleister was the culprit, the main offender. But this boy! Ooh-I can brush him every hour and still come up with prodigious amounts of hair. Sometime in mid-March it began to look like my entire house had a gray cast to it-upon closer inspection I realized it was just Aleister's fur everywhere. Rather depressing. Then last week I was in the basement (I feel certain most of you will have signed out of here by now) when I had an Oprah moment. There, next to the washing machine, was the Libman sponge/scrub mop-an answered prayer! I nearly leaped upstairs to try it out. Sure enough, one damp sponge stroke followed by a gentle scrape of the bristle brush and I could find my dhurrie rug again. There it was-yay! For those who aren't clued into this, it is genius! Or alternatively you already know this and I am brain dead. So a couple of hours later it was nearly done, which means that by Christmas the entire house will be clean. By the way, if you want to remove cat hair from upholstered furniture, put on a latex glove, dampen it, sweep in long strokes and soon you, too, will be horrified to see what you have been sitting on. I don't know a thing about dog hair anymore but my guess is it works for that too. It is still boring though...can't help you with that one!

Titanic-sized Greed + Bad Judgment = Countrywide?

Ok, just read this little gem courtesy of Eric Lipton at the New York Times:

Ex-Leaders of Countrywide Profit From Bad Loans

I posted a comment after reading this article this morning and the last time I looked there were over 400 comments and counting. Do you remember in "The Titanic" that the architect of the finest passenger ship of its time took a cowardly leap into one of the last lifeboats? Sound familiar? I just cannot believe this one. I would say "enjoy" but that is impossible. The lunatics are once again in charge of the asylum and all of us are "guests."

FIVE

I was terrified of my oldest sister. She taught me to swim way before age 5, because by then I was swimming laps doing a beautiful American crawl and had nearly perfected a dive from the low board. One day Betty said it was time for the high dive. I was not ready but she was and sometimes I later wondered if she wanted to kill me. At the time all I could do was obey. This was the same sister who made me watch televised baseball games that I hated, mostly because she made me stand at attention, hand over heart, during the National Anthem. In our den. Not at a live game in a stadium but in our den. It struck me as odd that I had to do this while she was languidly parked on the sofa smoking a cigarette but I was too frightened of her to balk. Her every wish my command, I just did whatever I was told.

Back to the HIGH diving board. Probably twelve steps to the top and then a dramatic walk to the end. That was all it needed to be, but halfway up the climb there was my first stomach grabbing sense of mortality and I silently balked by pausing. She, reading me correctly, said absolutely not, no way to come down so just DO IT! Time slowed down at this point as I knew that I was surely going to die that day, whatever that meant, and there was not even time for a "Now I lay me down to sleep" prayer. I tried to remember all that she had told me about diving and then properly approached the end of the board. Both feet together, bounce up and away and down. Down indeed, after completing one of the most glorious it-started-as-a-swan-dive-then-turned-pancake-belly-flops of all time. I hit the water with the force of smacking into a brick wall, stunned into paralysis, and began to float to the bottom. There was no "WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" moment here but rather a completely third person observer status of the situation. Going down, lots of water, looking at thrashing, plaid-clad half-torsos in the shallow end, wondering if anyone would notice. Then I saw the drain below me growing larger and realized I was nearly at the bottom. There was not a whit of fear-it was just so interesting that I was drowning and that it didn't seem to be such a bad thing. Surrounded by the so-blue, warm and heavily chlorinated June water, and the reflections from people, clothing, lounge chairs-all mixed in the water to wash over me with prisms to die for. Literally. I was really good at holding my breath but it did seem like a long time was passing and I supposed I would fade to black and that was just fine with me.

On the way out of this world, all of a sudden there was a huge amount of turmoil in the water and I felt myself being scooped up by a being that seemed like a dolphin and then up, up to the surface. From death to chaos again, there I was, spread out on a towel, in my brand new yellow bathing suit (one-piece of course), being gawked at and inspected by all, much like one might look at meat or fish before deeming it worthy of purchase. Smiles passed all around after a bit-cheers; she'll live. I wish I could tell you I had one of those amazing tales to tell of my life flashing before me. There wasn't even one. After all, at five years old what could have flashed? Toddling in the front yard, my older sister pinching me just for the hell of it? Throwing food under the table for the dogs and getting caught? Making my grandmother cry because I told her she should not take me out in a boat when she couldn't swim? None of that showed up in the pool; it was all just beautiful serenity and rainbow ribbons of water. And then I lived to dive another day.

Photo Courtesy of Julian Mei

I'll Never Get That Time Back

I don't have the patience I used to about some things, especially when people who are employed to be helpful treat others like garbage. So I felt like having a flamed Apple.

Home Shopping Faux Pas

At Home With a Blonde Blogging Realtor

Only One Word

OBAMA

A Documentary More Relevant Than Ever

Well, today seems like as good a day as any to offer up a little history, kindly provided to us via YouTube. It seems that due to the faltering worldwide economy we may all have more time than ever to catch up on the past and examine it before looking forward. Adam Curtis' 2006 documentary, "The Trap - Whatever Happened to our Dreams of Freedom", spells out in frightening detail how governments worldwide have commandeered social engineering in order to literally brainwash the masses into where they thought we should go both socially and economically. The three-part series is even more timely now than it was when the BBC released it. What does all of this have to do with us, the United States of America? Take a look - you have plenty of time.


http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=The+Trap+curtis&emb=0&aq=f#

Just a little question...

So how is government 'deregulation' working for you? Oops-everyone forgot to factor in #3 in the Top Seven Deadly Sins-you know the one-GREED, but I have also included a Wikipedia link just in case you want to review the others. Since we no longer have separation of church and state I thought I'd throw that link out for folks to read about-it just seems very timely.
Have a nice day.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_deadly_sins

UPDATE: September 29, 2008

Well, let's see, hmmm, let me see if anything has changed since the 25th when I was just asking the little question. Ummm, no, not really, except over the weekend we could choose to witness the heroics of Congressmen and women actually having to work-or at least it appeared so. Rotten tomatoes to all who resisted the attempted coup on the American people and voted for this bull. Hehehehe, now they have to go home to their constituents and explain why they voted as they did. Nearly 1,000,000,000,000 dollars NOT going for yet another bailout. I am thinking that we in our little corner of Virginia should get together a road show to help people out to hone their survival skills because they are going to need them. We are, for once, ahead of the curve-nearly twenty years ahead. Those who live here are somewhat worried but not panicked; we know recession and depression all too well. We are nearly on the other side of it now because we have grieved our losses, found out we lived through it and now look towards the future. No looking back at what was lost; we are looking at what remains and what we can do with it. That is a free market.

Gustav

Hey-Happy Labor Day to those in labor. The rest of us are staying home enjoying one last day of Staycation. Hmmm, no comment necessary on that one. On a completely tangential note, yesterday was spent watching Hurricane Gustav churn, slouch and twist and the general suck-uppery of the 'authorities' (I don't want to be arrested as a terrorist for naming names and Camp Guantanamo is definitely NOT optimal for a quickie vacation at this time of year even if it is FREE)in homage to the cluster-fuck we call Katrina. Lots of time has been spent this go-round by Deathwishers Jim Cantore of The Weather Channel, Anderson 360 Cooper'on the ground' and at times nearly in the air giving us more news than we could possibly ingest, digest and regurgitate to others as that nasty little piece of us secretly hopes we see THE LATEST DISASTER OF THE CENTURY. Earlier today I blew a tiny bit of coffee out of my ears when Cantore jokingly said words to the effect that this is not a good time to look for a beignet. Well, hardy har har for the worst joke of the day. The rest of it is just fluff and stuff except the part where Your President said he wouldn't be able to attend the RNC due to the impending storm. Hilarious-he just didn't want to get pelted with silence-Lord knows he's accustomed to awkward moments just after he opens his mouth but silence is just deafening and he needs to keep an open ear in case his good friend Putin calls to say "hey-what's up?"

Words and phrases that need a time-out after this weekend with my super brief commentary:

'dodging a bullet' Just think about the visual of this one
'pounding the Gulf' Forgive me, but I think of sex here
'halted' misspelled by the crawlmeister on CNN as 'HAULTED' Laziness-I want that job
'vetted' Should just be permanently eliminated due to gross overuse
'what we learned today' Nothing was learned today

Oh, and by the way, this really could give Florida a temporary boost and also a bit of the real estate economy generally. If, after the worst of the storm is over and Governor Palin tidies up her inconvenient truth of the day, the best thing to do would be to simply take all of the evacuees into Florida when it is safe and put them into the unsold condos that sit empty. I think it is about an eight year oversupply right now-my business partner says real estate agents there call them 'see-throughs'-they are so empty you can see all the way through them. That will be a huge boost to Florida and it will give FEMA a lot of time to really rebuild the levees.

Dream

Dream

I split, ah Gemini
Here and Paris
No bother for a dress
I wore a nightgown
At the brasserie-they said I was fun
I said I..d be right back
I went to a place that had snow
But it was in California
The houses were cheap
I decided I could live there
And they..d like how I speak
I could sell a house or two
And work in a shoe store
And then come back
And sell a house or two
And then the others arrived to tell me
That would not be ok
And I had to come back
The hostility was so great
I screamed and she smiled
Mission accomplished I suppose
And then a friend I trusted
Told my secrets
And lied and told more
And then I had no idea who to trust
I realized I had to go and change my gown
The brasserie was open
The were glad to see me
They thought it was great
That I wasn..t ashamed
In fact they laughed
Not at me, just the situation
I changed my clothes
But not my life
And then I had to come home.

Little Edie S-T-A-U-N-C-H and S***

Little Edie - New Hero

For Lucy

For Lucy-I Remember

Sitting at the bottom of the pool of vengeance
Looking up, praying for transference
I kiss the clouds a time perception
And know she died in full rejection
And all the spirits ride this swell
To make me speak the devil's tale

No peace can live within the fury
Your life plays out, its lies your jury
With every act your evil grows
And all around you pay your dues
I sit back and watch your spells
That dooms your soul to mortal hell

No quench for thirst in your dark sand
No way to see the light in hands
Of sisters tied to one another
You made us blind, we were your others
Your blood was cold, you made us shiver
You ripped us up until we splintered

I watched her pull the meat from bone
She starved, you let her die alone
You stole her soul, you know I know
And reveled in her death, so slow
But I'll stay here and plant my feet
In daisies for her memory.


Copyright 2008 Mary Rives Brown All Rights Reserved

Hypoheretic

High-res video: http://www.vimeo.com/1080651
A cyborg from the outside, in charge of monitoring the avatar way of life, falls for a virtual celebrity and traverses the metaverse to find her.
Film created with Reallusion iClonereallusion.com/icloneFilm created by John Martin theMartinBros.com
Song by Kirsty Hawkshaw-produced by Kirsty Hawkshaw and Glen Nicols=lyrics by Kirsty Hawkshaw and Alex Mei

Babar is Running for President?

But I thought you had to be born in America.....

Hey Blanche! This Reminds Me of YOU!

Dearest Blanch-

Blog, darn it!
Love,
badrose

Second Life Friends

These are just a few of the precious friends I have made in Second Life. In a few years I expect you will all have a Second Life of some kind or another. From left to right: "Tita" who knows how to create things out of his brain that are amazing and who has tons of patience; "KFH" aka Kirsty Hawkshaw in Real Life, who is just a wonder on so many levels there is no way to describe her-just let me say again that her presence and spirit gave me grace and a teleport to a new life; "Loverush Pennell," a fine man and close friend who is willing to go shopping on a moment's notice and who is a bright star in his own right as a DJ, producer and generally grand human; then I am on the right, the bumbling, stumbling one who drops in and they all put up with my poor flying, hysterical laughing and whatever is on tap for the times we spend together. Would that you all realize soon that your lives can be ever so much more enhanced by getting your own Second Life!

One more thing-the green picture at the top? A mistake, typical of me at many times, but to go from something like that to being able to take the other pictures? Well, learning occurs throughout our lives, every day, now doesn't it?

Viva la Revolucion!

CUBA...

So I am guessing that the revolution may be about to come to an end. Castro has "retired." What an odd word for a revolutionary to give out to his people and the press. Of course this nearly-lost-in-the-middle-of-the-ceaseless-Obama vs. Clinton-saga piece of news brought up the old, which for a few minutes in the shower this morning made me think of the unyielding past memories of Castro's glory days. The good old post-WW II memories of a child growing up in the 1950's taking everything at face value with no alternate compass for comparison. By 1961, at age 10, the Cold War was raging, but what did it mean for my contemporaries? We were fed fear in huge daily rations left over from 1945. I do not remember my parents ever discussing it around the dinner table where my father held court and we listened to his days' events. To me he was fascinating, so full of life and energy and his daily tales of developing land, building houses and completing a vision his father had begun seemed like the most amazing thing to do. This went on every night.

In contrast, television news, which by that time had become de rigueur for all of us, gave one and all a daily dose of how life as we knew it was on the brink of total destruction. Once in a while I wondered why my father was doing all of this while the world was just about to come to an end. All I wanted to do was eat ice cream as that seemed like the most sensible thing to do under the threat of impending doom.

Pause...this blog has just been interrupted...a friend just asked what I'm doing and then referred me to the following youtube video. You must not, I repeat, must not, continue reading until you have watched it. Perhaps you remember it?



Okay...now that you've seen the video you've got my frame of reference.

Continuing on, this video and many others like it were shown to school children throughout the U. S. in order to prevent widespread panic. What it did, of course, now that you've seen it, was to provoke hysterical yet inner-directed terror which I have always maintained created a collective anxiety disorder that continues to this day. I've had my meds today, have you? I cannot speak for others but I suspect if I took a poll of my peers they would say this malarkey was directly responsible for a basic mistrust of government that simmered and then boiled over during the Vietnam War.

Anyway, back to the world in the eyes of a 10-year old child. So we watched this drivel and did not believe one word of it. There was not a word of discussion as we just didn't do that then but we all knew that we were cooked geese but didn't know what day it would happen. Not if but when and way before the color-coded, post-9/11 rainbow scale of imminent doom. I bet some of ya'll right now are going, oh yeah, hell, I forgot about THAT! What happened to THAT! The memory of it lingers on in the incessant scroll; that's what happened to it.

Back to the fallout shelter. This is what my parents proposed to do to save us all, which included a housekeeper, a cook, my father's driver (yes, we were spoiled), my parents, four sisters, a St. Bernard, three poodles and my turtles:

If we were lucky enough to hear a siren (not available) at school we were to calmly walk home. Okay. No problem. Then we were to go into one room in the basement, all of us mind you, and begin stacking up newspapers and magazines such as Look, Life and National Geographics against the walls as they would prevent fallout from entering this room. Oh everyone knew that. This room was unadorned with anything except a half bath that no one in their right mind would ever use, a safe that hadn't been opened in many years and the dampness and odor much like old potatoes that was noxious enough to gag a maggot. Swell. Eternity for the foreseeable future in that room with people I was quite sure were not really my family as it had all been a horrible mistaken identity thing at the hospital nursery.

Oops, one more thing. Mother had taken the time out from her busy schedule with this woman's club or the other to grab a few cans of vegetables and beef stew, because after all we did have to eat SOMETHING. We did not have Spam on hand, however, as my Father had had enough of that while adrift in the Pacific after his twice-torpedoed light cruiser Admiral Halsey thought cool to use as a decoy before the Battle of Midway. Hell, why not, they're already out there, collateral damage, cool, go for it. Apparently it worked.

So what does all of this have to do with Castro? I thought by now you'd forget but here goes. I know it is a lot to ask of a mere human, but if your whole life is lived as a revolutionary couldn't you have just pretended to live the rest of it out without the word "retired" attached to it? What a waste. One little word has diminished the whole bit. I feel almost dirty. In my secret world, the darkest pit of wishes, I was hoping he would put himself in a missile launcher and direct himself to Miami-now THAT would be totally in keeping with his character, the ultimate parting shot, AND it would make me feel better about all of the time spent under my desk or thinking about a brief time of hell in the basement with all of those people and animals.